Teenage Wasteland
by theoneshotter
Summary: When a group of seemingly normal high schoolers meet, they soon realize something very strange is going on. Why do they seem to be exact stereotypes of the countries they're from? Why are their birthdays the same as the independence days of those countries? And where the heck are their parents?
1. The Perfect Son

**A/N: With the help of my AH-MAZING beta** raven-eyed-lass,** I have edited this chapter. Much nicer, don't you think? Chapter 2 is written and is in the editing stage, so stay tuned, folks!**

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Antonio had been talking to his brother for nearly half an hour now. The soft evening light filtering through the living room window was fading fast. He wondered if the moon looked the same from where his brother was.

He remembered that when they were little, the faded leather couches were mountains dotting the countryside. The wide green carpet was soft grass beneath their feet. So many wars were fought here. Animals were taken captive, cars were thrown, and towns were sat on. Now he was sitting on a leather mountain with a computer in his lap, and his brother was out in the world, fighting a real war.

_"Tomorrow's your first day of school, right?"_ Juan smiled, the glow not a bit dulled by the screen. Behind him was a room in which everything seemed to be gray. Bunks, blankets, walls, Antonio didn't know there were so many shades of that one dull color.

"Yep." Antonio studied his big brother. Juan's usually long brown hair was cut close to his head, and his new muscles were already beginning to show through his army green t-shirt.

"_Are you scared?"_ Antonio rolled his green eyes. _What a silly question, coming from Juan,_ he thought, _considering what he's training for._

"Nah, it's just high school, not even my first year! I'm pretty sure I'll survive. Speaking of surviving, how's boot camp? The army chicks noticing you yet?" Juan laughed his loud, rich laugh.

_"I don't have time for girls. All the ones around here are too serious anyway. You may not realize it now, but you're lucky to be where you are. Girls, sleeping in, rope swings…and all the glorious food you can eat! We have to get up at four thirty every morning, and they took away my churros. Said they weren't allowed. I think they just wanted some of Mamá's cooking."_ His warm brown eyes betrayed a hint of exhaustion. _"I miss you, Antonio, I miss you a lot."_

Antonio wished he could reach through the laptop screen and hug his brother tight –so tight that he would break an arm and have to be discharged, so tight that he would realize how much his family needed him, so tight that his _hermano_ might come home.

"I miss you too. Do you want to talk to _Papá_?" Juan frowned.

"_No. Is _Mamá_ home?"_

"No, she had to work late again." Antonio felt something soft rub against his leg. He pushed his computer off his lap so he could pick up the little bundle of fur. "Angelita's here though! Say hi to Juan!" He gently waved her paw for her.

_"She's so big!"_ Juan's frown melted into a smile_. "Hey there girl! She's what, five months now?"_

"Yep." Antonio tried hard to keep his voice from trembling. "She was two months old when you gave her to me, and it's been three since you left." He buried his face in the puppy's fur to hide his tears.

_"Man, I wish I could pet her, she looks so soft!"_ Juan kept on smiling like the oblivious idiot he was.

"She is." Antonio muttered, stroking her golden-red fur. Juan looked over his shoulder at the distant sound of yelling.

_"Coming, sir! I've got to go Tonio, talk to you soon!"_

"Wait! Juan, when are you coming home?" Antonio stared at the words on the screen, tears welling up in his eyes again. Video chat disconnected. _"Adios hermano, te quiero."_ With a sigh, he closed the computer. He stood up and re-adjusted Angelita in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder contentedly. "Come on, baby girl, let's get your dinner."

* * *

Beep~beep~beep~

Antonio slammed his fist into his alarm clock to make it stop. Sitting up and blinking sleepily at nothing, he ran a hand through his curly brown hair. Practically glowing with contentment, he sat there for the next few minutes until he was rudely interrupted by a reddish gold, medium-sized cannonball that launched herself into his lap.

"Ay! _Buenos días, _Angelita." He caught her before she landed on his crotch. "Guess what? Today's the first day of my new school!" He kissed the crown of her head and rolled out of bed, landing unsteadily on one foot. Angelita chose this moment to hop off the bed, skitter between his legs and run out the door. Antonio lost his balance completely and landed on the floor with an "oomph."

"_Gracias_, girl, that woke me up for sure." At the sound of his voice, the dog poked her head around the door. "I can see you, _diabla_! Come 'ere." He lifted himself to his elbows and grinned at her. She ran back to him happily and licked his nose. Sitting up and bringing her into his lap, he scratched behind her ears.

"Do you think they'll like me? I mean, moving to a new school can't be that hard. I did it when I moved to America, and I didn't even speak English! Of course, that was third grade." He sighed forlornly. "Everyone's nice in third grade." He pushed her off his lap gently and got to his feet.

"What should I wear? Hmm…clothes probably." He looked over his shoulder at Angelita. She just sat there and panted, occasionally thumping the ground with her tail. He threw open his closet door and grabbed a pair of jeans. Tossing them on the bed, he opened his drawers and tried to find a t-shirt. "Do you think "Viva España" would be too weird? I mean, I still have kind of an accent…would it make too much of a statement?" His dog didn't reply. "What about my Beatles shirt?" Still no reply. "Oh jeez, I'm talking to a dog. It's official, I'm crazy. Beatles it is, then."

He pulled his clothes on and tripped down the stairs, pulling just short of the kitchen when he heard voices.

"It was your fault that he left, Julían! If you hadn't been so stupid-" Antonio cleared his throat as he walked in.

"Good morning!" He smiled brightly at them, squashing his anger. He really hated it when they fought, especially when they knew he could hear them.

"Didn't see you there, Antonello! First day of school today!" His father's smile seemed a little forced, and his mother's hands shook as she poured coffee.

"I know, I'm excited." Antonio sat down at the table and grabbed a piece of toast from the plate in the middle.

"Well you don't look very excited! It's your first day of school since we moved here!"

"He's nervous Julían! Stop pestering him!" Antonio's mother slammed her coffee mug down on the countertop. A little spilled over the side and dribbled down into the tiled floor. He made it the focus of his attention as his parents started yelling again.

"You're the nagging wife in this situation, Isabella! Don't tell me what to do!"

"It's a free country! I can tell you to do whatever I want!"

"You sound like you're five years old! No wonder Juanito felt like he had to leave! His mother probably annoyed him to death!"

"Look who's talking! You were always trying to make him "the perfect son." I'm sure he got fed up with you! All I wanted to do was make sure he had a happy childhood."

"I wanted a perfect son because he was my only son!" Julían stopped once he realized what he had said. "I-I mean…"

"What do you mean 'only son,' _Papá_?" Antonio's voice was cold, yet he still didn't look up from the steady brown drip of coffee.

"Lo siento, it was a slip of words. I meant to say first son…"

"Now you've done it Julían. Look at his face!"

"Just shut up Isabella! Now Antonello…"

Antonio flinched at the sickly sweet use of his name. _Antonello _was a term of endearment, not a way to water things down. He allowed his green eyes to move from the bright yellow mug on the counter to the pristine kitchen table.

When the whiteness began to hurt his eyes, he glanced furtively at his mother. Her lean frame was quivering with anger as she tucked a lock of straight black hair behind her ear. Straight. Black. His father also had straight hair. Though it was gray now, its original color was reddish brown, the color of Juan's.

With a jolt, Antonio realized that he didn't fit. How could he not have noticed before? His green eyes, which were uncommon, stood out in a family of brown eyes. They all had smooth, calm hair, while his always looked as though he had just run through a tornado. _All the people who call me oblivious are dead on. Why didn't my parents tell me? _Antonio felt the unfamiliar heat of anger as the turned his glare from his mother to his father.

"Don't do that! You can't just brush that off! Why didn't you tell me? You let me live for fifteen years without letting me know that you weren't my real parents? When were you planning on telling me? What the hell's wrong with this family?" Antonio's voice grew louder and louder, he was certain he'd never been this mad. "Ever since Juan left, you guys just can't leave each other alone! I try to be open with you, I tell you when I get in trouble so you don't have to wait for a call from the school. I come to you for everything, because we're a family, we don't keep secrets!"

"Fine! You're adopted, okay? There. I said it. Something your _padre_ was never brave enough to do!"

"Isabella-" Julían reached for his wife's hand, but she smacked him away.

Before either of them could say anything else, Antonio was up and running out the door, his backpack knocking over a lamp as it swung wildly behind him.


	2. The Personification of Awesome

**I'm so sorry this took forever to get finished. I hope I didn't lose any readers! Anyway, here it is. Finally. It is the beautiful chapter that it is because of **raven-eyed-lass**! Enjoy! If you have any suggestions, please tell me :)**

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Ten minutes later, Antonio was still running. As the taillights of the bus disappeared around the corner, he stopped and watched it go, eyes wide with disbelief.

A sound like a gunshot rang through the early morning quiet as a dented yellow car screeched to a stop next to him. The driver stuck his head out the window. "Do you need a ride?"

Antonio looked at him in surprise. He knew that he made friends quickly; he was easy to approach and very laid back, but why exactly was this guy offering him a lift? How did he even know where he went to school? Speaking of school…a quick glance at his watch told him he had fifteen minutes to be in homeroom or he'd start the year with detention. It wouldn't be the first time for the easy going Spaniard.

He decided that with his parents fighting, he wouldn't get much sympathy for missing the bus. Plus, he'd have to sit in the car with one (or both) of them as they drove him to school. Imagining them trying to explain themselves to him while they were trapped in a metal box together, Antonio decided he would accept this random gift from God and possibly get to school on time. He nodded, ran around the front and tried to open the passenger door, only to discover that there was no handle. "Um…"

"Oh, sorry about that. Awesome-etta had a bit of an accident." He leaned over and opened the door for him. As Antonio slipped in, the older boy laughed. "These jocks at my old school decided it would be fun to sabotage my ride. West managed to fix my handle, but he hasn't gotten around to that side yet."

"West?" Antonio smiled, Of course you just can't smile your way out of feeling betrayed. Thanks, guys, for 15 years of lies…He pushed those thoughts away and focused on his new friend.

"My little brother. I'm Gilbert, by the way, Gilbert A. Beilshmidt. The A stands for Awesome." He slammed a booted foot onto the accelerator and the lemon-colored vehicle reluctantly shot forward, disturbing the peaceful neighborhood once again in all its un-muffler-ed glory.

"Nice to meet you. My name's Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo." Antonio studied Gilbert curiously. His skin contrasted sharply with his own caramel hue, being impossibly pale, like that of a vampire's. Even whiter than his skin, however, was his hair. Snowy and short, it somehow managed to look messy and silky at the same time.

"Sounds like a duke or something. Can I just call you Tonio?" As the pale teen said this, Antonio noticed his eyes. They were deep red, like coals in a dying fire. The Spaniard flinched slightly under his devilish gaze, and the crimson eyes narrowed. "I guess you're wondering why I'm so weird-looking." He said abruptly, reading the younger boy's thoughts.

"I didn't want to be rude…" He began, but Gilbert cut him off.

"It's a condition called Albinism. I have no pigment whatsoever." He sounded almost bitter.

"Oh..." Antonio didn't know how to respond. Gilbert raised a white eyebrow, as if waiting for him to elaborate. What should he say? Of course he knew about Albinos, everyone did. They stood out like ghosts around everyone else. He wondered what it was like to be so…unique.

"Yeah." There was an awkward silence, penetrated only by the normal sounds of traffic and the unhealthy roaring of "Awesome-etta's" exhaust pipe.

"So…why exactly did you pick me up?" Antonio asked, fidgeting in the uncomfortable seat. It looked as though a werewolf had been set upon it. The worn gray material was ripped almost everywhere, and brownish-yellow stuffing was poking through in clumps. All this made it hell to sit in, especially with the sharp metal framework digging into his thigh through an especially abused part.

"You looked like a lost puppy, staring after that bus. I seriously thought you were gonna cry." Antonio blushed fiercely and picked at some stuffing on the edge of his seat. "So I decided to give you a ride. There's only one high school around here, and if you were going somewhere else… hell I guess I'd take you there. I don't really have anywhere else to be."

"Aren't you in high school too?" Antonio asked, frowning a little. Gilbert didn't look that much older than him, but he was already proving to be a "you only live once" kinda guy.

"Yeah, but it isn't that awesome. You are going to Rio Rancho, right?" Antonio nodded. "Awesome. Freshman?"

"No," Antonio chuckled, "10th grade."

"You're only one year younger than the awesome me! You can be Awesome Junior!"

"_Estas bien_!" A look of confusion dawned upon Gilbert's face as the Spanish rolled easily off Antonio's tongue.

"Sorry, I said, great!" The albino laughed in an attempt to cover up his (awesome) befuddlement.

"Uh, okay. So, where are you from, _Señor_?" Antonio chuckled at Gilbert's terrible accent. _Hmm…_the Spanish boy thought. _He says his w's like v's and on the whole just doesn't seem to be __**American**__. I wonder where he's from._

In his mind's eye, Antonio saw a younger Gilbert wearing a cape and chain mail, hoisting a gleaming sword into the air.

_"…and to reward myself for being so awesome, I claim all of Burzenland for the great Prussia!_" Where did _that_ come from?

"Antonio? I asked you where you were from. That accent isn't American. It isn't awesome to ignore the personification of awesome." _Personification_. The word hummed through him like a long-forgotten lullaby. It had a familiar feeling, like one would get from the word "home" or "family."

As the warmth spread through his veins, however, he realized it was marred. Beneath the comfort, there was pain. The underside of the tapestry vibrated with anger, sadness, and death. He had the sudden feeling that he was forgetting something. Something important and possibly life changing, but he couldn't seem to remember what it was. Shaking his head to clear it, he muttered an apology and returned his gaze to Gilbert.

"I'm from Spain, I just moved here from Boston over the summer." He grinned, the faint traces of remembrance fading.

"That's cool, you do look a little pale, Yank. _**Fick!**_" Gilbert swore angrily as he swerved around a car. Antonio laughed, pointing out to Gilbert that he was one to talk about being pale, seeing as he was albino.

"What about you? I'm pretty sure that was German you just spoke."

"Yup. I was born in Berlin, on the east side, technically. We moved to the west when I was a baby, and that's where my brother was born." Antonio nodded absentmindedly and stared out the window. "Ah, here we are!" Gilbert chirped, chipping pieces of concrete off the curb as he careened into the school parking lot. Antonio struggled with the door for a few seconds before it finally popped open.

"That's one abused door." He grinned as he slung his backpack over his shoulder.

"Well-loved. I've had some good times with this baby. _Mein__** Gott**_ it's hot out." Gilbert squinted at the school building. Even though it was early in the morning, the sun was already beating down mercilessly, and the parking lot shimmered with heat.

As Antonio studied the low tan building, his eyes began to fill with tears. Juan always walked in with him. The first few days, he always met up with him in the halls and made sure they had lunch together. Even last year, when Antonio was a freshman, the bottom of the heap, and his big brother was a senior, Juan looked out for him. He felt his heart clench at the thought of making friends all alone.

Why was Juan even gone? He should have been going to school in Albuquerque, saving up for an apartment, and whining about low paying college jobs. For some reason, the day he turned eighteen, he had told them all that he had enlisted. He left for training as soon as he could.

_Did he know? Did he find out that I was adopted?_ This little thought brought back all the emotion Antonio had been repressing. He had been good so far at ignoring all the questions popping up in his mind. Listening to Gilbert's mindless chatter had soothed his anger, and now all that was left was an unrecognizable feeling swimming in the pit of his stomach. He had the strange feeling that this had happened to him before. A strangled sob escaped him, and he bit down hard on his fist to keep from crying. Gilbert would tease him, and then he would go from one friend to zero.

"Tonio? Are you okay?" Just his luck, those red eyes were narrowed in his direction. "Man, don't cry! Do you have any idea how unawesome that is?"

_"I-I know…but we lost, Gilbert!" Antonio shivered and drew his red coat closer around himself._

_"It's okay. We'll whoop Austria's ass another day. We are a bazillion times more awesome than he is." Gilbert tossed an arm around his shoulders, the jewels on his cuffs clanging with the metal plates on his ally's coat. Antonio sniffled and nodded, his grin a pitiful ghost of his usual smile._

_"It's great to have a friend like you, Prussia."_

_"I know, I'm awesome. I'll always be here for you, Spanien."_

Gilbert's eyes widened as the image of two battle-worn countries faded from his mind. Now all his weird (and slightly awesome) dreams of battlefields and world meetings were making sense.

"Hey, Antonio, I've got some weird shit to tell you…" The innocent, oblivious look in Antonio's tear-filled green eyes was nothing but a conformation. He had found Spain.


	3. 2 Plus 1 Always Equals 3 The BFT

**A/N: I'm sorry for the late update! And I know this is a puny little chapter, but school is killing me. I'll get better, maybe. **

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Francis Bonnefoy was _not _having a good day. It was only the first day of his sophomore year, and already he wanted to go home. The beautiful dark-haired girl from Seychelles had rejected him without a second glance, and his P.E. coach had told him that he was in the wrong class and that he needed to go to the office to see about getting his name taken off the boy's list. It had been a horrible day, and it was _only_ lunchtime.

He reached back and angrily yanked the tie out of his hair. With the golden strands brushing his shoulders, he felt a little better. _At least I'm still gorgeous,_he thought smugly. Tucking a curl behind his ear, he straightened his shoulders and walked through the lunchroom doors.

The sea of people was overwhelming. Everyone seemed to have a place, even this early in the year. Everyone except Francis. He wandered aimlessly, weaving through the tables, his tray clutched to his chest. There was Jessica Burns, the lovely girl with waves of coppery hair. She leaned gracefully against the table, her soft white bosom straining against her tiny lavender shirt.

Francis suppressed a small sigh of contentment. Just watching Jessica made him smile. He continued to watch her as she closed her eyes and laughed, her long black lashes brushing her lightly freckled cheeks. She snapped her head around, her cold blue eyes sparking. Francis felt a little shiver of joy race down his spine.

"What are _you _looking at?"

Her voice was frigid, and everyone at her table turned to stare at him. "Creeper." She tossed her bright red hair and turned away from him, snorting in disgust. Her companions, a gaggle of football-playing seniors and air-brained cheerleaders, murmured their agreement.

"Go back to hitting on guys, faggot." The boy who said this glared at him with small, dull eyes. _What was with these Americans and that word?_Francis wondered. _Every time a boy tries to express his feminine side, ugly words like "fag" rain down upon him. _L'amour _is certainly a very narrow subject in the United States. _With his head down, he slowly continued his search for a place to sit. The sound of laughter drifted towards him, above all the other noise. He turned to look at the source of the laughter.

"_Kesesese_~ I'm telling you, it's true, Tonio!" The speaker had hair whiter than moonlight, and skin like vanilla.

"That doesn't make any sense. Why would I be a-?" The second boy seemed to be the source of light in the room, glowing with happiness. His dancing green eyes caught Francis'. "Hey there, do you want to sit with us?"

"You can't just ask random people to sit with us!" Francis bit his lip anxiously, this is exactly what he had feared. Unfriendly people giving him dirty looks. This seemed to happen to him all the time. He turned and began to walk away when one of them grabbed the back of his shirt.

"Can too, watch!" The cheerful boy plucked Francis' tray from his hands and after setting it down on the table, pulled him into the seat next to him. "There! I'm Antonio, and this is Gilbert. What's your name?"

He pushed away his insecurities and put on his very best smile. "My name's Francis Bonnefoy."

People often said he was a perverted man-whore, but he could also be a true gentleman. The French invented the art of being a gentleman, of course, and he was French to his very core. He had been able to make _les gateaus_from scratch by the time he was five, and had an excellent sense of style. Oh yes, he was also the most handsome in every room he walked into.

These boys were also nice looking. Just sitting with them made his heart seem lighter. He could feel his day escalating. Something inside Francis told him that he had met them, this Spaniard and this…German? Before. The boy from Spain called Antonio smiled cheerfully and asked how his day had been, while the albino named Gilbert glared moodily at him. The way he seemed to hate every atom of his being reminded Francis of a Brit he had met over the summer - Arthur.

Arthur Kirkland was a skinny boy with eyebrows that seemed much too large for his face. He seemed to embrace his differences, making fun of Americans for their "uncivilized" ways and butchering of the English language. Francis had met him at the park the week before. He fondly remembered the conversation they had had, treasuring it in a special place in his heart.

"_What are __**you **__looking at?" The small boy with messy blond hair accused. He was sitting on a bench, __**not **__marveling at the lack of rain, because rain was perfectly fine and all this cursed_ _**sun **__was annoying and __**not **__warm or enjoyable. That, of course, was all a lie. He loved the sun, secretly. Not that anyone had to know that._

_"You have beautiful eyes, mon chér." The French boy who had been prancing by smiled at him. God, how he hated the French. Those __**frogs **__were just so…so damn __**French**__!_

_"I do not!" Arthur replied hotly, sliding the silken page-marker into his book of fairytales._

_"Yes you do. May I sit down?" He still had that infuriating smile on his stupid face. Being French, he probably wanted to rape him._

_"No, you may not! Stay right where you are, and don't come any closer!" The boy ignored him, and plopped himself down on the bench in a cloud of cologne and __**French-ness**__._

_"_Bonjour, _I'm Francis._Tu t'appelle coment_?" Arthur glared at him, trying to ignore his soft-looking golden hair, and the way his blue eyes sparkled with centuries of secrets. Secrets that he, being the proper English gentleman he was, would never even __**want **__to know._

_"I don't speak French." Arthur stuck his nose in the air and turned away._

"Je desoile_, I asked what your name was." God, he was persistent._

_"I'm Arthur Kirkland." He gathered his book and coat, stood, and stalked away. The boy, Francis, watched him go with a smile._

"Hellooo there! Where are you from, _Dreckschwein_?" A pair of devilish red eyes were glaring at him from across the table, interrupting his reminiscing of the Brit who resembled this albino German in front of him.

"Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry. I'm French." Francis replied airily. Gilbert grunted, and went back to mashing up his potatoes. This appalled Francis so much that he just _had _to say something. "You know, Gilbert, you should cut up your potatoes, not flatten them into mush." He smiled sweetly.

"Ja, whatever." The albino ignored him.

"Are German, by any chance?"

Gilbert glared at him again. "Ja." He muttered before returning his attention to his food. Antonio laughed awkwardly.

"So…are you new too, Francis?" The French boy looked more closely and noticed that Antonio's eyes were slightly red, and his smile was shaky.

"_Oui_, is everything alright?" The Spaniard's forced smile widened like a scar across his face, and a light blush began to spread over his tanned cheeks.

"Yup, everything's great. Do you like school so far? What's your favorite class?" The questions were fired like bullets from a musket. _Something is wrong, and he won't tell me what it is, _Francis mused. He enjoyed guessing things about people, as if they were characters in a play. It made life much more interesting. Antonio was obviously depressed about something, but he wasn't going to show it.

"School is…interesting." He smiled sadly, thinking back to the looks of contempt he had received from these silly Americans. Thankfully, school hours weren't as long as they were back home in France, and he would be out of these halls by four o' clock that afternoon. Just the thought brought a smile to his face.

Then again, he saw a friend in Antonio, Gilbert too, to an extent. The German was hard to read, and he seemed to hide in his shell, not letting anyone in, anyone but Antonio, anyway. In the face of his impossible cheer, walls and barriers melted. With a bright smile towards any guard, he could lead an army through the gates and conquer a nation.

Francis smiled at the thought of _Antoine_ all decked out in his _matador_outfit, wheedling his way past the guards, his bored soldiers behind him. The soldiers were wearing a mixture of Prussian blue, French lace, and the bright red of _Espange._He wasn't quite sure where the memory came from, but it was as clear as day in his mind.


End file.
